


Banquet

by suchfreshcabbage



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Humiliation, M/M, Public Sex, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 04:34:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14804465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchfreshcabbage/pseuds/suchfreshcabbage
Summary: Sauron is bored and wants attention. And Maedhros.





	Banquet

At one end of the table sat the lieutenant Sauron, at the other end, slightly above it, was Melkor, perched in his throne, overseeing the banquet. The edges of the long table held seats for the head maiar, balrogs, and a few guest orc captains.

The table was arrayed in the finest foods. Massive wine decanters, finely cooked elven ribs, a soup made from imported cocoa, individual bowls of roe, and warm bread, all prepared for their delight. Sauron, however, found little interest in these foods that he usually quite enjoyed. He busied himself with pushing a small bone around his plate with a knife. The conversation had dulled; Melkor, usually the most raucous of the bunch, was unusually quiet. He had a bit of a fight with his lieutenant recently, and has since been quite withdrawn from him. Sauron knew he’d get over it eventually, but in the meanwhile these banquets were so incredibly _dull_ to him. Even Thuringwethil, who usually held great gossip for conversation, was deep in a personal debate with Langon and gave no attention to Sauron.

There _was_ , however, always _one_ person he could turn to for a little entertainment.

It was customary to keep a line of elves fastened to the wall for use during banquets, whether that be extra food, a display of torture, or carnal indulgence. One such elf was a tall redhead, perfectly proportioned and perfectly trained. Maitimo, he was called. Sauron’s favorite. He looked over to the orc assigned to the supervision of these elves and nodded. The orc understood, and immediately unfastened this elf and delivered him to Sauron.

Sauron reached out a long-fingered hand and, combined with a smile, beckoned the elf over. He pulled his tunic up slightly, exposing himself. Maitimo shivered slightly but understood what he was meant to do, as he had done so many times before, and kneeled between Sauron’s thighs.

He was not able to begin his task, however, as Sauron took initiative and grabbed a fistful of his hair. With a firm grip, Sauron pressed the elf’s head against his crotch and simply rubbed it there, just as lazily as he had been playing with his food moments ago. This was effective in hardening him slightly, but fixed not his boredom.

“Now, Maitimo. My lap, this time,” Sauron instructed.

Maitimo understood and perched himself there. To his surprise, Sauron did not opt to penetrate him quite yet. He wrapped on arm around the elf’s waist, holding him firmly there, and with the other hand continued to pick at the plate of food in front of him. Gradually, he began to grind against the elf with more and more agression, gyrating his hips against him. Maitimo sat still, held tightly, pressed against Sauron.

“Maitimo,” he whispered in the elf’s ear, “You’re being dull. If I wanted to fuck your corpse, I would have killed you by now. Act lively, won’t you?”

The elf understood, and began to actively respond to the maia’s movements, moaning slightly as he had learned to do and moving in accordance to the established rhythm.

This was not enough. Sauron wanted someone who could _squirm_. He wanted an elf to be fighty. Fortunately, he had quite the trick. He removed from his pocket a bottle viscous black liquid. A concoction of his own imagination, designed to burn and sting just as much as it could lubricate. He poured a generous amount onto his free hand, reached underneath the elf, and began to apply it across his ass. Immediately, to his satisfaction, the elf began to squirm vigorously. Sauron increased his clutch on the elf tighter, and with his hand began to probe slightly into the elf, spreading the liquid evenly, stretching his hole in preparation. Maitimo wretched against Sauron’s grip and yelped slightly from the pain.

“Shh, shh. No, no, sweet thing. You know not to make a noise like that. Not at master’s dinner banquet.”

Maitimo couldn't help himself. As the liquid absorbed into his skin, stinging like a snake’s bite and burning like iron, aggravated only more by Sauron’s resumed grinding, his breathing became strained and he couldn’t suppress a thin scream.

Sauron struck his face with a quick slap. “No. No, Maitimo. No. You know better than that. Here, put that mouth to better use.” Sauron stuck his fingers, slick with the black fluid, into the elf’s mouth. “Clean them.”

Maitimo sucked the fingers as diligently as he could, but his efforts weakened as his mouth and throat began to burn fiercely.

Sauron grew impatient. “Good enough, sweet thing. Good enough.” He removed his fingers and uncurled his arm from around the elf’s waist, now opting to grip the elf’s hips, firmly, sharply, with both hands. He lifted the elf slightly, positioned himself, then pulled the elf down over his length, penetrating him with one fluid motion. He began to thrust upwards into the elf on his lap in short but forceful motions, bringing his hips up slightly with each one, holding the elf in place all the while. The feeling of Sauron’s thick cock ravaging him, against his raw burning skin, was too much for the elf. His squirming increased to nearly a flail and he screamed. His motions and noise attracted the attention of a few of the banquet’s attendees. Sauron no longer cared if the elf yelled. In fact, he quite relished the attention. The elf’s flailing mattered not; his grip was strong enough to keep him in position.

As Maitimo continued to whine, however, Sauron became increasingly bothered by the sound and shifted one hand from his waist to his throat, albeit with just as much force in his grip. The elf’s shouts shifted to sputtered sounds of choking, which Sauron by far preferred. He enjoyed the feeling of his pulsing neck, trying and failing desperately to find air.

Sauron looked up, surveying the room for eyes. Yet again, attention had drifted away from him. He _had_ to remedy this. He leaned forward again, pressing his mouth to Maitimo’s ear, and whispered.

“Scream. As much as you want.”

With a swipe of his hand, he cleared off the plates and dishes in front of him on the table. At the sound of them shattering upon the floor, most of the room turned to look at the source of the noise. Sauron, pleased with there now being an established audience, stood up and bent Maitimo over the table in front of him. As he thrust into the elf, harder now than he was able to manage while remaining seated, he allowed himself to moan wildly, commanding attention. Maitimo, as Sauron hoped, did his part in yelling. All conversations in the room had come to a halt upon seeing this display, and all eyes focused on the pair. Even Melkor’s. Sauron held his gaze directly, unceasingly, as he continued slamming his hips up against his elf. Melkor couldn’t ignore him now.

With a few, slower thrusts he finished inside the shaking elf. He stepped backwards from the table and readjusted his hair and tunic.

“Take him, if you want. He’d love it,” Sauron declared to the orc closest to him at the table.

Sauron turned and left the table. Quickly, he paused to flash one last coaxing smile at Melkor, then left the hall.

Melkor excused himself from the table and followed.

  



End file.
